


Halloween Town

by AstoranBlade



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Everyone suffers for it, F/F, F/M, Merlin didn't enchant his hat, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, UA, season 5 rewrite, universe altered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstoranBlade/pseuds/AstoranBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it hadn't been a particularly good idea to go to the Master of Nightmares for help when horrors were the problem. But without a saviour to speak of, what other choice did they have?</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Storybrooke is plagued by a manifestation of terrors and the heroes turn to the Pumpkin King in desperation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a season rewrite so don't consider everything in Season 5 as canon in this story, but anything that is will be made clear.

**Introduction**

_Once Upon a Time;_ _Long, Long Ago_

He'd never really been much of a fan of covert action. Surely it was infinitely more satisfying to do things in perfect candour, regardless of how grievous the intentions. Why opt for stealth when you could be entirely forthcoming and still watch the opposition crumble at your feet in failure? You could see the exact moment they realised that they'd held all the pieces and yet still they'd lost; oh, how such despair was glorious. So it wasn't that hard to guess why he found it unfortunate that that wasn't an option here. This seemingly endless labyrinth of stone brick walls and mounted flames was quite clearly the wrong place for it. And so he resigned himself to subtlety - albeit not without an exasperated eye roll and deep sight to placate any penchant for the overdramatic he may have developed over the years. Though, admittedly, all his complaints were mostly feigned. He did value his continued existence; this was a bad place to enter through the front door unless one enjoyed having their head severed from their body.

Admittedly, it wasn't as though he was exactly incapable of moving unnoticed - the near silence of his footsteps as he sauntered down the scarcely lit passage gave away that much. He simply inspired a distinct presence that he'd been told people found... difficult to ignore. It wouldn't be entirely unexpected to discover that they already knew of some intruder in the almost-deserted, crumbling complex. Almost being the key word. How unfortunate that eradicating the liability wasn't what he'd come for.

There was a chance she wouldn't mind if he got rid of the singular person left that was truly capable of getting in their way, might even thank him. But a part of him could already feel the beration for the thought alone; don't risk the failure, don't risk losing out on _the prize_. He'd come a long way for the stupid thing, so he didn't particularly fancy letting all that effort go to waste due to his own recklessly impulsive nature. _She_ had been very clear that a great many things depended on his success, and wouldn't be best pleased if he failed to deliver. Last time hadn't been pretty; not for him, nor for the poor benighted bystander who'd tried to calm the pair of them. At least they'd stopped fighting for the time it took to put him down. Permanently.

He slowed his pace minutely, staring cautiously ahead to where the passage had begun to open out into something you could safely assume the heart. Well, about damn time. Being alone with one's thoughts for any extended period wasn't exactly good for anyone - he'd lived it enough to know that much. His destination was as good a distraction as any.

His goal became clear the instant he turned the next corner; the entire expanse seemed to centre in on a single spot, a stone pedestal rising proudly in display. Light stretched across the floor, clawing desperately towards it but never quite touching. He scoffed, momentarily at a loss as to whether it was more pathetic that the fire seemed so intent on engulfing the darkness, or that his own mind was projecting humanity onto those very flames. A single shrug later he decided upon the former - stamping out shadows was a paltry effort, and ultimately counterproductive. His own questionable sanity aside, negating a thing so wondrous simply seemed a waste.

But there were more pressing matters at hand, like the odd-looking artefact sitting innocently before him. To the uninformed observer it was a mere cylindrical box; the sort of thing you could simply choose to overlook without batting an eye. Oh, if only they knew. Stars lay printed across the lid over a black canvas, while the circumference was pure gold. A number of jewels were crafted systematically into the edge, and the side held a lock which he knew had no key. That wasn't how one got their hands on the Sorcerer's Hat. 

It felt surprisingly light in his hands for something so dangerous. Surely such an object would have more weight to it, considering just what it was capable of if used correctly. But he didn't have time to squander contemplating mere mass, he needed to get out befor-

"I wouldn't take that if I were you."

Too late.

He turned slowly, deliberately letting a sneer cross his features at the other's statement. The man was young, likely enough to be barely 'an adult' by usual standards.

"Oh? And why is that?"

A pause, before "people who, er, c-carry dangerous things... normally end up having them, erm, used... used against them."

He quirked a single brow at the light stutter, but chose not to comment. It was rather common for people to find him somewhat intimidating.

Taking a step forward, he reveled in the significant flinch he got in response; a menacing smirk curled across his lips. Just what, he wondered, had led Merlin himself to choose someone so skittish to guard all of his belongings.

"So I'm supposed to believe that it's _not_ that you simply don't want me to take your master's precious hat?"

The apprentice swallowed deeply, choosing his next words very carefully. "I know who you are - I know _what_ you are."

"You-"

Wait. What?

His mind halted, entire thought process dissipating in complete bewilderment.

"You're the B-"

"You don't have to say it, I know my own titles thank you very much," funny, how quickly one's entire being can switch to autopilot. His speech was entirely startled instinct by now. "So what? You think this sparkly hat is going to be my downfall? Don't mock me. You just don't want to have failed the Sorcerer and think threats are the way to scare me off." His shoulders shook marginally with half-baked attempts to fend off his growing laughter before stopping without warning, all humour fading from his mismatched eyes. "Here I thought you knew who I am."

The room seemed to grow darker in that moment, temperature dropping a fraction in a silent threat that may just have come from the steel in his gaze. 

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not," he couldn't quite help the pause between his words, penchant for the overdramatic and all, "still, can't say I envy you. You're gonna have to write one hell of an apology letter for this."

And suddenly, the entire labyrinth was in darkness - lights abruptly choked by some unseen force. By the time the apprentice knew what was happening, there was no longer anyone there to put a stop to.

As it turned out, the young man had been right about the hat. Within a week the man's companion had been slain with her own knife, while he himself was dragged soul first into the very artifact he'd been sent to steal. A month, and the hat was right back where it belonged. 

It had happened just as he'd predicted. But maybe - just in case - he should think about casting some sort of protective charm.

Just in case _her successor_ chose to come after the damned thing.

 

But it couldn't last forever. One day the hat would be destroyed, and the nightmare would walk free. 

If only Merlin had enchanted his hat while he still had the chance. Then  _he_ would never have taken it in the first place.

 

Maybe then none of it would have happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that this update took so long, I cannot apologise enough. But exams are exams, and I'm likely not going to have any substantial writing time for a while yet. Regardless, I will do my best to have the next update up as soon as I possibly can. I will not forget this story, no matter what.  
> But here, without any further ado, is the next installment of Halloween Town. Enjoy

He tried not to pause for thought, but there was something of an irony in where he had ended up. Charcoal heart in one hand, his master's hat in the other - never once had the Apprentice considered that one day he might try to save a Dark One. As one of the remaining few who were witness to _her_ creation, he'd been convinced for thousands of years that there was no redemption for one who'd been steeped so wholly in the darkness. The shadows corrupted; it seeped into the skin of those it could reach and not once did it ever let go. And yet somehow, here he was: about to prove his own theory wrong.

It made for an odd twist, as though their new author _hadn't_ chosen to deny himself the power. It was almost a fictional happy ending, a literal change of heart for the very man who'd toyed with them for years.

  
He wondered, for a moment, whether any past villains could have one day been redeemed. A glance at the hat and he contemplated whether or not if he tried hard enough he could feel that man scratching at the walls of his bastille. The old man felt himself shudder at the notion - _he sincerely hoped not._

It was something just short of a miracle that he finally managed to turn the blackened organ into a blank slate, especially with such thoughts rampaging through his mind. He tried to ignore them, instead focusing entirely on dragging the formless shades into Merlin's magical prison. _She_ had been a threat for centuries - changing face but always coming back to try and take what he was ordered to protect.

The last of the darkness drained away into the hat, constellations surfacing in recognition of its new resident. He let loose a sigh of relief. _Finally._ They were finally free of her influence; even the very air around them felt significantly lighter with her absence. And he didn't doubt that it would be an absence they would all be better off for.

Carefully, he pushed the now cleansed heart back into Rumplestiltskin's chest; the artifact sitting harmlessly off to the side. It slid back inside seamlessly without the man stirring even an inch. But the dagger was clear, no name written on its blade, simply its standard black trim. All was well.

"He- he's barely breathing." The young brunette spoke softly in question, but they were all so closely huddled around the scene that everyone could hear her anyway.

"Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One for centuries. His return to the man he used to be will not be easy." Cryptic comments came easily to him, call it old habits learnt from a man with even more cryptic prophecies.

He raised a hand, the magic flowing smoothly as a result of centuries worth of practice.

"This will preserve him, until we discern if we can help him."

Belle frowned, brows furrowing as his choice of words registered. "If?"

He made as if to answer, but stopped abruptly when something in the air shifted sharply. All eyes turned to the now-boxed hat, but the Apprentice hesitated for a moment. Fear settled deeply in his bones, something solid forming in his throat as he suppressed each tremor before it could fully form. And then he moved his gaze, and time seemed to take pause around him as the ominous glow registered in his mind.

The black surface visibly rippled, the container shaking with the stress of-

_Oh sh-_

The shadows burst from their temporary prison, leaving it in tatters as they clawed forth and grabbed straight for the one who dared to put them there in the first place. Black talons reached out, clutching at every fibre of his being and using it as leverage to pull further forward still.

Maybe he'd been right: darkness will never let go once it takes hold.

His muscles locked into place, incapable of any conscious movement which could have saved him from his fate. And all in a moment they had taken over entirely, control finalised as they seeped into his bones. A pressure began at the base of his spine, before rising rapidly; crawling through flesh until it reached his heart.

_'How dare you do this to us!'_

The voice was an amalgamation of sounds, a harsh chorus melding together within his head in blame for their treatment. But _she_ was the clearest - the most predominant tone above all the others in respect of her title. How fitting that the first Dark One could still so easily overpower the spirits of her descendants, even in sound.

_'You dare to try and end us?'_

'Reuniting old friends, eh? Not the smartest of plans, right, old man?'

His blood ran cold. The second voice had been much clearer, bitter vocals fracturing from misuse but he'd recognised it all the same. It had been centuries since he'd heard it, but the acrid inflection wasn't something someone was likely to forget. _That man_ was free.

For a moment he could practically envision the mismatched eyes - feel the stare burning straight through his soul into every fear he'd ever held. There was something undeniably frightful about the blackened state of the sclerae, as though the shadows had oozed even to his optics, reaching a singular iris as collateral. The other was stained a deep crimson - a vivid reminder that he was coated in more blood than just what covered his hands.

Dual laughter echoed through his skull in grim reminder that his mind was no longer his own; his thoughts no longer quite as private as he might have wished.

_'And to think I actually regretted not killing you. All this time...you've feared me this much?'_

He felt the cackle before he heard it - a cruel, edged sound that surely no sane man could hope to produc-

And all of a sudden it halted, muted sharply mid-chuckle. He'd heard that musing too.

_'The hilarity of your terror is worth your earlier sparing in my eyes. Though I can't say the same for my associate...'_

_'No matter,'_ she responds swiftly, _'we can right our wrongs right no-'_

A blinding white erupted across his vision. Light warmth prodded gently through his being, replacing hard pressure with practised ease. Saviour magic had no true equal, after all.

His knees buckled, body collapsing limply to the floor as the shadows' control fades. And then they left, the amalgamation of dark tendrils seeping out from his flesh; dragging a final clawed hand through his heart as a parting gift. The organ is shredded in a single agonising moment, along with any last hope that he could survive this encounter. His vision faded, the sight of them departing little more than a blur of motion.

There are voices, but they're muffled to his dying soul. He felt himself being moved gently - almost as if they were afraid of breaking him. If only he could muster up the strength to laugh at the irony. Was he not already broken, after all?

Emma spoke, but it took a moment before he could focus enough to register her words. It took all he had to give her what she wanted.

"Long...before...your stories began," gasps for breath interrupted every few words, but they still patiently watched on. "The Sorceror battled the darkness. He was able to keep it from consuming the realms. He tethered it...to a human soul tha- ...that could be controlled...with the dagger."

Understanding flooded across her features. "The Dark One," she muttered softly, more to herself than anyone else. He nodded in confirmation, breathing out a 'yes' to verify.

"The Sorceror...is the only one with the power...to destroy the Darkness once and for all before it destroys everythin-" his voice cut off into a croak, vocals failing him momentarily. He took a few seconds to breathe, but he couldn't allow himself to pause for long. He was the only one who knew about _him_ ; about the second adversary who now walked free after centuries of imprisonment. He had to tell them before he spoke his last words.

"Where is he? Who is he?"

"He's far, far from here. Find him. His name...is...Merlin." He was fading fast now - he could practically feel the life as it drained drop by drop. If he was going to say anything, it had to be now.

But the Saviour and her paramour were already standing, rushing to the door to help their family. By the time he drew the strength to wheeze out a 'wait' the pair were gone.

"What is it?"

He heard a shifting of movement, and all of a sudden there was another face staring down at him. The boy, the new Author.

Henry.

"There's something else...someone else." Breathing was getting harder, lungs slowly giving up even bothering. "There was a man...in the hat...a dangerous man..."

The boy waited for him to gather every ounce of energy he had left, patiently staying right by his side until the end. A child his age had no right being so matured. But it wasn't the time to focus on such cruelties.

"But there is someone...who can stop him before it's too late..." Breathe in. Breathe out. "They're known as...the Pumpkin King..."

Henry's brows shot up, eyes widening in surprise as he muttered, "Jack Skellington?"

He nodded, the movement heavily encumbered by the deep fatigue settled into his skin. No doubt the boy knew of them from one of his stories. "They are not from this world...neither are they from your family's..." Just breathe. Please. "Merlin...knows its name..." Truth be told, he knew it as well. He'd simply rather not have had to invoke the name of the realm which held the Underworld lest it took him right then and there.

The coughing tore from his throat before he could stop it, and Henry stiffened beside him - probably at a loss as to what he could do to help. It just so happens that one could never particularly help death.

"Jack is the only one...who knows how to...how to dispatch him." His vision faded once more; a panicked expression crossed the child's face as the inevitable finally seemed to dawn on him. "Speak to Jack...speak to...spe..."

When the next darkness took over, he accepted it with the hope that maybe he'd be better off on the other side.

 

* * *

 

He wasn't entirely sure just how long he'd been...out of commission, but he assumed that it'd been a significant number of centuries since he'd last been much more than disembodied shadow in a sparkly hat. His old companion had been a welcome sight, even though it had been in less than preferable circumstances. At least she'd waited until they'd exited the strange shop to spit him unceremoniously onto the pavement; allowed him to truly manifest for the first time in millennia.

His feet had scarcely touched the ground when his legs crumpled, motor skills failing without warning. Hands scrambled to catch his falling body, barely summoning the strength to hold himself in time to avoid smashing his face into the concrete. Maybe re-ajusting to having a physical form wouldn't be as easy as he'd hoped.

_'Having trouble there?'_

The humour in her tone made him look up sharply, light snickers bubbling up from his throat without his notice. She merely floated above him, a black mass pulsating ominously - he could practically feel the raised brow and curled lips, even if she didn't exactly have the features to produce it.

"I could use a little warning next time you decide to throw me somewhere."

He stood slowly, body shaking with the effort; his strength was returning, but at too gradual a rate for him to rely on. Every single fibre of his being ached. Stumbling towards the nearest wall was the only way he could keep himself upright - weight leant almost entirely onto cold bricks.

It was blatantly obvious the moment that the humans had deemed it wise to come after them, an involuntary wince forming across his features. All subtlety appeared beyond them judging from sound alone; clattering footsteps echoed deafeningly throughout the street. _Because of course, when following two beings of pure darkness that you have no hope to defeat, the first step is to make your presence as known as possible._ He could have laughed at the thought, if it wasn't more than likely to increase the aching in his temples.

_'I shall deal with them'_

His gaze lifted sharply. All traces of jest had drained from her speech, and he found himself nodding in recognition before standing back and watching.

And deal with them she did. It always was amusing to see darkness take itself a fresh host.

What came next was surprisingly easy. Conjuring a split second screen of pitch black - just long enough for him to step over, pick up the freshly engraved dagger, and walk away without them having seen even a glimpse of his shadow - even with his temporary fragility that had been mere child's play. Overseeing the humans' loss from a nearby alley was even easier. The group returned to the small shop in a state of clear disarray; he would have managed more than light snickering had he the energy for it.

He found his gaze drawn downwards, eyes focusing on the dark artifact in his grasp. Last time he'd held it, the intricate trim had read _'Nimue'_. But this time...

_'Emma Swan'_

_Wonderful._

The intense throbbing in his skull drew him swiftly out of any musings. Maybe he had overestimated just how much power he was capable of wielding without having taken so much as a moment to rest.

  
In truth, it mattered very little if he took some time to have a breather. The Apprentice was likely dead by now, which meant no one left so much as knew that he was here.

It was perfect.

He had all the time in the world.


End file.
